Her Temptation
by purrpickle
Summary: "Berry…" she rumbled almost inaudibly, "You have no idea how much danger you're in…" Werewolf!Pezberry.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **I don't own Glee nor the characters within. Another tumblr prompt. Nayariveragirl supplied 'Her scent is intoxicating but addictive at the same time,' as well as specifying it was werewolf!Pezberry. Was supposed to be a one-shot, but, as per normal, it grew. I aim to please. ...Okay, my imagination aims to please.

Note: this has _nothing _to do with my story _Santana: Werewolf Hunter_. And, woo! Huzzah for the terrible Harlequin Romance type of title. XD

And onto the prologue~

* * *

><p>Her scent is intoxicating but addictive at the same time. It makes it hard to concentrate whenever she's near, and the effect she has on her only gets worse when they're shut in the same classroom together.<p>

And unfortunately for Santana, her senior year is filled with classes she shares with her temptation.

* * *

><p>Swallowing the thickening saliva that always appeared the closer to the full moon it got, Santana continued staring at the back of Rachel's head. Having to continually pull herself back from burying her nose into long, luxurious locks, a low, vibrating whine started high in her throat.<p>

"Berry…" she rumbled almost inaudibly, leaning over her desk to get close enough to touch one of the random out of place strands of hair with the tip of her nose, "You have _no _idea how much danger you're in…"

* * *

><p>Contrary to popular belief, Rachel wasn't oblivious. Goosebumps prickled along her neck and shoulders when the burning presence of Santana drew closer to her back, and she swallowed, trying to keep her shiver unnoticeable. Lowering her chin as her eyes fell to the worksheet their teacher wanted them to fill out as he lectured, she bit down on her lower lip.<p>

Ever since the new school year had started, Rachel had been feeling the uncomfortable excitement of being Santana Lopez's prey. She hadn't mentioned it to anyone, but she knew it wasn't her imagination that every time she looked up Santana's smoldering eyes were transfixed on her.

In the beginning, she hadn't known if she should be concerned or not. The other girl hadn't been making moves to harm or attack her; she was just always _there_. And once her initial fear had worn off, Rachel made it an exercise in discretion that she'd observe Santana observing her without her knowing. She wanted to know what was going on, and for some reason she didn't want to involve anyone else. Santana's attention was hers and hers alone.

* * *

><p>When the bell rang, Rachel put her book and binder away as slowly as she could without it seeming like she was intentionally doing so. Nodding and making all the correct noises as she listened to what Tina had planned for their glee girls sleepover that Friday, she pushed her hair behind her ear, letting the natural act of her eyes following the motion cover her specific glance at the walking past Santana. The girl looked sharp and severe, and her dark eyes slid along Rachel's face, meeting her gaze and slipping away. Feeling heat and danger in her wake, Rachel watched her walk off, then smiled and offered up the use of her portable karaoke machine.<p>

* * *

><p>The closer it got to the weekend, the more Santana skulked around the edges of Rachel's awareness. She didn't leave her alone. The full moon was Saturday night, and her body was preparing itself. With her sharpening senses was her growth of appetite, and as the shifter inside of her grew closer to the surface, her hunt for Rachel intensified. Her mental processes grew baser, and with each new second around Rachel, the fight grew harder to suppress. Her urges grew harder to suppress. She grew stronger, and Santana's control grew weaker. All <em>she<em> knew was that Rachel was _hers_. _She_ needed to exert _her_ ownership. _She_ needed to claim Rachel.

And the night of the glee girls sleepover was when _she_ broke free.


	2. Chapter 1

Smiling broadly when Tina opened the door, Rachel giddily held up her sleeping bag and backpack, gesturing at the waiting karaoke machine and couple of grocery bags behind her. "Good evening, Tina. May I have some help bringing everything in?" As she waited for an answer, she glanced behind Tina, hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone else inside.

Tina smiled. "Of course!" Leaning forward to take the sleeping bag from her, she pushed the front door open further. "Hey, guys! Someone free?"

A couple of loud, laughing voices drew near, and then Mercedes and Quinn appeared at the door. "Oh, great," Quinn rolled her eyes, coming out to grab the shopping bags anyway, "Unappetizing food."

"You say that now," Rachel grinned, then turned to Mercedes. "Can you take my backpack?"

"Sure thing. See you inside." Taking the backpack, Mercedes followed Quinn and Tina inside.

Looking down at the karaoke machine, Rachel rubbed her hands together. "Well…" she murmured, "Bend knees, back straight." Sliding her hands along the sides until she gripped the corners near the bottom, she flinched when a low voice husked behind her, sending up instant prickles of awareness and goosebumps, "You look ridiculous."

"Thank you Santana," Rachel straightened, throwing her hair behind her shoulder as she turned to look at the girl staring intently at her, "That's really nice that you feel the need to point that out."

"Just keepin' it real." Breathing in deeply through her nose, Santana's eyes dropped to trace Rachel's body, slowly, slowly breaking away to take in the karaoke machine. Walking forward, with hot fingers she pushed Rachel's shoulder, making her back up, her hand sliding down Rachel's arm before pulling back. Muttering something under her breath, she smoothly picked up the karaoke machine, stalking past Rachel before she could say anything.

Staring at her back, Rachel swallowed and shook her head. Santana's hand… It had felt so possessive. Possessive… And dangerously attractive.

* * *

><p>Dropping the machine where Tina pointed, Santana took a moment to breathe in deeply, sorting and cataloging everyone's scent. Though she had been over earlier in the week, Brittany hadn't arrived to the sleepover yet, and Quinn and Mercedes were in the kitchen. They both smelled like their boyfriends, while Mike only lingered at the edges of Tina's body; she had obviously showered after school.<p>

Nose twitching, Santana turned her head just enough to look in the direction of the kitchen, narrowing her eyes as she did so.

Rachel smelled like the grocery store. All of the faceless scents making her feel agitated, she growled low in her throat, it taking a couple of seconds to separate the stink from the scent she needed. Just a matter of time, she allowed her lips to turn up into a dark grin, until even that scent changed once _she_ took what was _hers_.

"….and then when Kurt and Brittany get here," Tina was still talking to Santana's back, "We can decide on when we want to move to the pool. You _did _bring your bathing suit right, Santana?"

Thoughts flashing to the burning smell of chlorine swiftly moving to the sight of Rachel close to nakedness made Santana's smirk grow. "Of course," she turned around, not bothering to change the expression on her face, "I'm always up for gettin' my swim on."

* * *

><p>Looking up from the vegetable platter she was arranging, Rachel smiled widely at Tina. "The karaoke machine all set up?" she asked hopefully, practically bouncing on the tip of her toes.<p>

Tina smiled distractedly back at her as she moved to the refrigerator to take out a bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap, she nodded. "I think so. I left Santana working on it."

"And you trust her with it?" Quinn butt in, looking up from the bowl of potato chips she was pouring.

Rachel frowned. "What do you mean?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, going back to the chips, accepting another bag from Mercedes when the one she had emptied with space still left in the bowl, "Well, it's _yours_, isn't it? It wouldn't surprise me if she found some way of screwing with it so she wouldn't have to hear you hogging it all night."

"I wouldn't do that." Repressing the urge to snap, Rachel huffed instead. Giving Quinn a pointed look, she pushed the finished tray aside and picked up the bag of plain, vegan-friendly popcorn to her left; once the plastic was removed, she set it down and put her hands on her hips. "While, yes, I would enjoy having some songs for myself, I would also find it a good use of time to be available to offer tips and advice on improving all of your guys' performances as well."

There was silence in the kitchen, and then Mercedes rolled her eyes, reached for one of the carrot sticks on the vegetable platter, "Shut it, Rache," and flicked it at Rachel.

Blinking as the vegetable hit her chest, Rachel watched it fall to the floor. "Really?" she gasped, laughter bubbling up to join Tina, Quinn, and Mercedes', and grabbed a baby tomato. She aimed.

Unfortunately, she had always been a bad shot. The tomato glancing off of Quinn's cheek, Rachel eeped and took a step backwards. "Quinn," she started, still laughing even as her hands came up in surrender, "You know that was an accident."

"Do I?" Using the back of her hand to wipe off where the tomato skin had split on impact, the blonde smirked evilly and lunged forward. Scooping up a handful of radishes, she started tossing them in Rachel's direction.

"Tina!" Rachel squealed, turning to sprint to the safety of behind her, "Tell Quinn that throwing vegetables isn't the proper thing to do!"

Quinn snorted. "Even if you did it first?" she taunted, feinting a dart around the island in the middle of the kitchen to get Rachel to go the other direction.

"I'm not a part of this!" Detaching herself from the job of human shield, Tina quickly joined Mercedes on the other side of the kitchen. "Just don't break anything!" she raised her voice, then copied Mercedes in egging both girls on.

"Traitor!" Changing her tactic to trying to catch the radishes instead of batting them away, Rachel jumped in triumph when she managed to bounce one off the side of Quinn's head. "Well?" she grinned smugly, "We even now?"

"Ugh." Shaking her hair out, Quinn gave her an unimpressed glare. "Let me think…" She smirked, suddenly "_No_."

Realizing that the other girl had already reared back for another throw, Rachel drew her arm back to start her own…

Only to freeze when familiar goosebumps suddenly erupted along her neck, the overwhelming _presence _of Santana coming up behind her interrupting her concentration. A low chuckle, and then Santana's hand was wrapped around her wrist, strong fingers sliding along her palm and fingers as the radish was pulled from her hand. Nails slightly dragging along her arm before dropping to curl around her hip, Santana pushed her forward just in time to calmly catch the radish Quinn had been unable to stop releasing.

Quinn stopped short, her eyes widening. "_San_? …What?" Behind her, Mercedes and Tina exchanged puzzled glances.

Not seeing this, Rachel couldn't stop staring up at the girl still standing close enough to _feel_, the areas Santana had touched _still _tingling. "Santana…?"

Not bothering to respond, Santana brought the radishes up, eyelids lowering as her nostrils flared. Disgust flaring in her eyes, she smoothly tossed them over her shoulder. "Right," she started, turning her head in the direction of Tina and the others, her eyes on Rachel's far too long to be accidental, "We got any _real_ food? Any…" Her lips parted to show her teeth, "Meat?"


	3. Chapter 2

Santana's attraction to Rachel had always been there. On the surface, somewhat a curiosity to her wilder instincts, but nothing more than idle appreciation. The girl smelled like plain vanilla and rose, a little intriguing but easily washed away by everyone around her, only becoming more interesting when she would sing or perform, the scent growing deeper, richer. Santana would sit up and pay more attention in reaction to the subtle changes, but she did this for everyone else. Rachel was ignorable, nothing special.

But as soon as the same girl swept in the front doors of the high school the first day of senior year, something had changed. At first, Santana picked up a new spiciness to Rachel's scent, something that made her look at her a little longer. There was a maturity to the girl that hadn't been evident before, a new weight to her words and actions. She smelled delicious, suddenly _desirable_, and the lines and curves of her body seared directly into Santana's awareness. Every little thing Santana had found attractive before suddenly seemed _more_.

The cute, aggravating way she talked. The wardrobe that somehow managed to flatter her figure. The nervous fidgets and the silly faces she made while singing. Her lips, her eyes, her body, her legs. Santana was interested, attracted, both her body and mind gravitating towards the other girl.

Almost immediately, _she _stirred, following this new appraisal, adding another layer of awareness as Santana watched and tried to make sense of the new impulses she'd only had a taste of before. Impulses that her shifter ultimately started piggybacking, magnifying, the feral part of Santana growing more and more fixated on Rachel.

As the days passed, as she spent more time around the other girl, she became immersed in her newfound increased appreciation. The more she explored Rachel's reality, taking in everything about her, the more she saw. And everything she saw encouraged the _hunger_ slowly growing inside of her.

By the second full moon after school, she'd known the inevitable. That morning, she'd woken up naked and shivering, covered in sweat and curled up on something hard and chilling, rough against her skin. Disorientated, twitching when _Break My Stride _suddenly blared from somewhere above her, she'd sat up, a hand to her head. Quickly realizing she wasn't in her own backyard, her eyes had darted around in panic, sniffing furiously to try to get an idea of where she was.

Rachel's scent hitting her just as the music was shut off, the last traces of her fading shift had made Santana immediately perk up, comprehension crashing into her. She'd remembered her deliberate trek across town in the middle of the night, her methodical exploration of Rachel's house and neighborhood. She'd remembered _her_ making it _absolutely_ clear that _she _was claiming the area, making one more circuit before disappearing into the wild land on the outskirts of Lima, only padding back as the sky grew lighter, full and ready to make _her_ intentions known.

Listening to the sounds of Rachel rising from her bed and moving around, a slow pleased smirk had crossed Santana's face. The last house she'd done the same to had been Brittany's, two years ago, her best friend's house having been her destination each full moon until their relationship eventually smoothed out and cooled off. Until no part of her no longer viewed Brittany as _hers_.

But waking up that morning at Rachel's house had just confirmed what Santana had already resolved. She was attracted to Rachel. She _wanted _Rachel. And she was going to _have _Rachel.

At least, she'd smirked again, waiting for Rachel to leave the room to scale her tree and slip in through the open window to grab something to wear for her trip back home, pausing to bring Rachel's pillow up to her nose before agilely jumping back down to the ground, nothing the other girl had done had told her Rachel wouldn't want it.

Yes. Rachel was going to be _hers_.

And now, as Santana watched Rachel and the other girls struggling to set up the volleyball net in Tina's backyard, she enjoyed the wind blowing past them towards her. Comfortably seated in one of the chairs near the backdoor, happily chewing on a roast beef sandwich weak with everything but roast beef, she laughed at a dirty remark that left Quinn's lips.

Catching her laugh, Quinn glared over at her. "Hey," she called out, "How about helping us, maybe?"

"Yeah," Rachel chimed in, clutching one of the poles of the net close to her chest, keeping it steady as Tina tugged on the other pole to test the tautness, "Why should we let you even _use _this if you don't help?"

Santana raised her eyebrows over her designer sunglasses. "'Cuz I's got mad skills and whoever's on my team's gonna win?" She took another bite of her sandwich through a wide, taunting grin.

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Doesn't matter if you speak the truth, you're still being a bitch."

Tina stifled a laugh, pulling once more on the pole, making Rachel's body waver forward until she set her feet and leaned backwards.

"Takes one to know one, 'Cedes. And Tina. You know, if you keep tugging on that pole," Santana called out, standing up as she heard Brittany's mom's car rolling up in the front, "You better be prepared for what's going to come out of it."

A chorus of ewws and groans and laughs followed her, and Santana kept half her attention on separating out Rachel's voice as she approached the dark green van, finishing her sandwich in two big bites.

"S!" Brittany exclaimed, straightening and waving from where she was pulling two filled gym bags stuffed to the limit from the side.

Santana smiled, closing her eyes briefly as she sucked in the pleasing scent of Brittany, some of her always present energy calming even _with_ the traces of her cat and boyfriend still clinging to her. "Let me get that," she answered, easily pulling the bags out and off. Nodding at Brittany's mother, she froze. "_Brittany_," she growled, looking down at the bag in her right hand as the van drove off, "Why is Lord Tubbington _here_?" Feeling her hackles rising, she stiff-armedly thrust the bag at Brittany, unable to keep a deep snarl from taking over her face. Glaring at the bag where a now obviously noticeable hissing and shifting was going on inside, she could feel more growls building in her chest.

Normally she and Lord Tubbington had an uneasy truce, but this close to Santana's shift, _she _was _not _amused.

Her head tilted, studying Santana closely, Brittany reached up and patted Santana's cheek. "Don't worry," she smiled, turning on her heel, hugging the bag close, "Tina told me I could keep him in her room. It's his birthday, so I didn't want to leave him alone. I did last year and he got so depressed he vomited on my bed and took up drinking again."

Watching her walk away, Santana's whole focus was on keeping her control, clamping down on the agitated motion under her skin. Lord Tubbington was just a _cat_. Nothing fucking _important _to challenge. Her teeth grinding in her jaw, she forced herself to breathe through her mouth.

But then familiar feet approached the front door from inside, Rachel swinging the door open before Brittany could get to it.

"Oh, hi, Rachel! I'd stop to say hi, but I have to get Lord Tubbington away from Santana before they start fighting," Brittany greeted, leaning in to whisper as she passed by her, "When it's her time of the month, San gets territorial. Maybe you should come inside too?"

_Rachel._

* * *

><p>Rachel should leave Santana outside because she was having a fight with Lord Tubbington? Frowning, Rachel didn't have time to respond before the blonde disappeared inside, chastising the moving bag in her arms to, "…stop it, you know she's only like this once a month. You don't need to be rude."<p>

Shaking her head, Rachel turned back to Santana standing on the sidewalk. "Hey," she smiled, trying to make out the other girl's expression, "We finally got the net up and are about to start a practice game until Kurt gets here." When Santana didn't respond, her shoulders raising a little, her hands crushing the strap of the bag she held, the lower part of her face looking sharp and tight below her sunglasses, Rachel swallowed; she felt pinned to the spot even if she couldn't see Santana's eyes, awareness and a trickle of fear running down her back making her heart speed up. "Santana?"

And then Santana was stalking forward, movements stiff and jerky before melting into swift, smooth strides, almost loping by the time she came upon Rachel. "Easy," she purred, hefting Brittany's bag to her shoulder, stopping next to Rachel's side, teeth looking disturbingly sharp as her lips lifted, "If I were to attack you, it would be in an _entirely_ different way."


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: **This will hopefully make something make sense: clot/coddle. Thank you.

* * *

><p>All throughout the volleyball game, the awareness that Santana was focused on her continued to grow. As they were on the same team, Rachel would have gotten annoyed with her, except for the fact that Santana was managing to show off her 'mad skills' and indeed, lead their team to – at least current – victory. But any chance she could get, Santana was making it a contact sport between her and Rachel.<p>

It was obvious the others were noticing as well. Mercedes, Tina, and Brittany on the other team even seemed to be missing hits because Santana would have just managed to flash out her wrist to bump the volleyball up while her other hand slid along Rachel's shoulders if Rachel was going to miss it, Mercedes and Tina exchanging heavy looks while Brittany only shook her head, a small smirk curling the blonde's lips up. And Quinn, stuck with Santana continually bouncing around, had even snapped out aggravatingly, "Just hump her leg, why don't you?"

Rachel, blushing heavily, tried to convince Santana that she didn't need her help, as she actually was a rather capable volleyball player. However, even if she did back off a little, the culmination came when, Quinn diving for the ball and managing to hit it up, Santana jumping to set it up, Rachel, who had initially run towards Quinn in case she wouldn't have gotten it, knew she wasn't going to make it in time to spike it – but she was going to try. Leg muscles tensing, feet slipping in the grass, Santana was suddenly next to her. Hands tight on her hips, Rachel barely registered her husky, "Get ready," before Santana practically_ tossed her straight up in the air_, locking her arms around her thighs so Rachel had leverage to, still almost missing it out of sheer surprise, quite sloppily spike the ball into the gulf left by the open-mouthed girls staring at them.

And then Santana was dropping her, slightly leaning back so she could catch her without slamming her feet into the ground. Aware of her body burning into her back, her hot breath blowing against her neck, Rachel felt at once in extreme danger and flushed with energy, her heart pumping in her chest so hard she didn't know if her shortness of breath was due to surprise or Santana.

"F…_Foul_!" Tina splintered the shock, "That doesn't count!"

"You're just jealous," Santana chuckled arrogantly, slowly releasing Rachel, her arms momentarily constricting before relaxing enough so she could step away.

Rachel stared at the ground.

Santana… Santana had _sniffed _her, behind her ear, a small growl rumbling through her chest right before she'd let her go. And where her hands had initially locked around her hips, it stung.

"Oh, shit." Turning from where she had begun volleying insults and taunts back and forth over the net, Santana took a step back. Her mouth in a rigid frown under her sunglasses, her nostrils flared. "Britts," she called to the blonde, "Take Rachel to the bathroom. That's where you have Band-Aids, right, C-squared?"

"What, you cut her with your dick?" Quinn drawled.

Santana growled. "That doesn't even make sense, Q. No." She flexed her fingers, "My fingernails cut her."

Having lifted up her shirt, ignoring the unsettling rips in it and pulling the waistband of her shorts down, it was true. They weren't too deep, but they were there, and drops of blood had bubbled up and smeared in ten red crescent moons. "It's not bad," she felt the need to reassure the girl even as she tried to make sense of how that could have happened. Swiping her finger along one of the almost puncture? wounds, Rachel jolted when instead of pain, something deeper and attached to the coiling in the pit of her stomach when Santana had picked her up like she was nothing glowed outwards. Making a noise in the back of her throat at the sensation, Rachel didn't protest when Brittany took her arm to lead her back into the house, Santana's eyes burning into her back.

* * *

><p>"She didn't mean to cut you," Brittany smiled as she knelt next to Rachel.<p>

Holding her shirt up and shorts down as the blonde dabbed at the still sluggishly bleeding cuts on her right hip, Rachel nodded. "Normally I'd be clotting already," she whispered distractedly before meeting Brittany's eyes and smiling, offering, "Stop bleeding."

"I was going to ask you what diapers had to do with bleeding," Brittany nodded. When she accidently pushed down on one of the cuts, Rachel shivered, almost squeaking. Noting it but not commenting, Brittany pulled back. "Well…" she tilted her head before twisting to grab the handful of Band-Aids they'd found in one of the drawers next to the sink, "Hopefully they'll stop when there's pressure." Opening the first Band-Aid, she suddenly squealed, making Rachel flinch.

"_What_?"

"Scooby-Doo!" Grinning widely, Brittany showed Rachel before wiping away the blood that had beaded again on the first cut and applying Neosporin as gently as she could, affixing the Band-Aid with an extreme look of concentration on her face. Doing the same with the other four cuts, she sat back, making a twirling motion in the air, "Other side!"

Turning around as she tried to ignore how the unintentional stretching of the cuts felt too _good_, Rachel frowned, starting to feel a spark of fear that those cuts were not clotting as well. Maybe she needed to eat some iron-rich foods or even _more _greens to absorb more vitamin k. That was certainly a better excuse than entertaining the notion that it had been something about Santana, instead…

"She really didn't mean it," Brittany reiterated, glancing up at Rachel as she pulled her shirt and shorts up and down again, "But when it's her time of the month, she can do a lot of things she doesn't mean to."

"What, like making volleyball a contact sport?" Rachel snorted, shaking her head as she looked at her reflection in the mirror over the sink, wishing she could prop a hand against the counter to casually lean against. She hadn't missed the almost unconscious inflection Brittany had put on the last she.

Giggling in acknowledgement, Brittany sobered, chewing on her bottom lip. "Rachel…" She sat back on her heels, pulling away.

"Brittany?"

Brittany's eyes were deadly serious, the blue deepening, "Tell me right now if you don't want Santana."

"Wh-what?" Swaying a bit in surprise, Rachel felt a blush rush to her face as indignant warmth rose in her throat. "Brittany, that's not appropriate – "

"Who else would you talk to about it?" Shaking her head, Brittany gave her a pointed look. "Look, Rachel." She lay her hand comfortingly on Rachel's knee, "I can't tell you exactly what's going on, but I know some of what she's doing with you."

Rachel bit her lip. "Personally?" she asked, voice soft, reluctant.

"Personally." Smiling understandingly, Brittany picked up the Kleenex again, "But that was a long time ago."

What uncomfortably felt like jealousy roiled in Rachel's stomach. "What's a long time?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant, "For you, I mean."

Her fingers pressing into her hip as the blonde paused to think, Rachel trembled as once again the low awareness simmering around the cuts flared into life. Was… She swallowed, closing her eyes. Was this a sign of being a masochist…?

"Last year." Nodding, Brittany's eyebrows furrowed. "You're _still _bleeding?"


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Mostly written while I was half-asleep, which oddly made it _very_ easy to write werewolf!Santana.

* * *

><p>By the time Brittany and Rachel left the bathroom, Kurt had finally made it to Tina's house. Hearing his voice coming from the kitchen, Rachel was just about to walk with Brittany down the hall to greet him when Santana abruptly swept down the hall, bypassing Brittany and pushing Rachel back into the bathroom. Slamming the door shut behind them, Santana moved in until Rachel was practically pushed back against the sink. "Santana!" she gasped breathily, heart hammering in her chest, "What are you doing?"<p>

Santana dipped her head, breathing in deeply through her nose, her hands curling into tight fists on the edge of the sink on either side of Rachel's waist. "You're still bleeding, aren't you." It wasn't a question, her voice deep and thick, like it was coming from her chest. Eyes flashing up to Rachel's, they were so dark and predatory Rachel was suddenly, legitimately, scared.

Hands drawing back, thumbs dragging in the loose drapery of Rachel's shirt, Santana's shoulders jerked as she slowly lifted Rachel's shirt; a second later, her fingers detached to grab Rachel's. Having been trembling at her sides, Rachel's hands spasmed, her head snapping up to catch Santana's almost whispered order, "Hold your shirt."

Finding herself doing as she was told, Rachel's already shallow breathing picked up when Santana slid her hands down to catch in the waistband of her shorts.

Somehow, Rachel found her voice. "_Santana_."

Long fingers felt out the ends of the Band-Aids, the slight touch enough to once again ignite the awareness of …_pleasurable_… pain. Rachel's breath hitched, feeling goosebumps swirling up and down her body, her skin under Santana's hands both _reaching_ for her and shrinking away. "_Santana_," she whimpered again, "You're… Scaring me."

"_Shh_."

There was an increase of pressure on her left side, and Rachel could barely believe it when Santana drew a red-streaked finger up to her mouth. Her tongue darting out, her eyes widened, shuttered, her face drawing into a deep scowl as she turned her head to spit out the taste. Confused by the flood of hurt and shame that caused deep inside of her, Rachel flinched when Santana's eyes snapped back to hers. "Neosporin," the girl snarled, the hand still shining with Rachel's blood on it thrusting past her side to grab the nearest hand towel. Turning on the hot water, she wet one end, body shifting closer, stomach brushing against Rachel's knuckles. Rachel's knees weakened.

Once the towel was sufficiently wet, Santana pulled her arm back. Leaning forward, nose brushing along Rachel's bangs, breath hot against her cheek and jaw, Santana rumbled, the space between their bodies filled with electricity and danger and Rachel really, truly, instinctually wanted to run, _needed_ to run, needed to get _away_, needed to find out why she was _feeling this way_, find out why Santana was _acting this way_, and why she suddenly felt so off-kilter and terrified and – and – and _turned on_ – "_Stay_."

Rachel crashed her eyes shut, turning her head back and up, unconsciously baring her throat, her body tightening and freezing like a strummed string trying to settle down. There was a loud exhalation, a throaty whine that almost sounded like her name, and Santana's head dropped even more, soft, burning lips hovering over Rachel's fluttering, jumping pulse. Her hand taloned around Rachel's hip, making her squeak-moan, biting down on her lower lip hard enough to take her attention away so she wouldn't cant her hips into Santana's. Somehow, she could tell that Santana was drawing her lips back, angling her head so she could skim her teeth along her skin, _bite_ _down_…

Rachel trembled. This, whatever this was, was happening too fast. Trying to get her mouth to work, her voice to work, Rachel knew if she could just unclench her hands from her shirt, turn her head, or just make _some _sort of noise, the molasses surrounding her brain and Santana's would thin. Shatter. "…S… Sa… _San_."

Almost panting, Santana pressed in before Rachel could _feel_ her pulling back so slowly and disjointedly it was like she was forcing herself back from somewhere deep, deep inside herself. Keeping her eyes closed, still shaking, head back in its uncomfortable position, Rachel jumped, unable to stop a soft cry from leaving her mouth when gentle, muted fingers heated and slightly damp from the towel brushed against her jaw line. Sighing, stroking her cheek once more, Santana's presence was suddenly gone from the space before her, so fast Rachel didn't have time to catch her breath at the loss.

Until hands hooked into her shorts, pulling the waistband down just enough to fully uncover the Scooby-Doo Band-Aids ("Scooby-Doo, B…?" Santana murmured with the faintest trace of amusement), far enough down to encounter the waistband of Rachel's underwear. But Rachel didn't have time to get embarrassed. "Keep the shirt up," Santana instructed, her eyes pitch black and still so, _so_ predatory when Rachel turned to stare down at her; having to press her elbows into the sink top, Rachel hissed, biting down on her lip again when Santana peeled off the first Band-Aid on her left hip, swiping at the still bleeding wound with the towel.

The tingle was worse than before. "Santana," she croaked, fighting the urge to sway her thighs or press her legs together as everything she'd been feeling in the last couple of minutes swirled like something sickly arousing in her stomach, jumping as Santana's hand wrapped around the back of her right hip, "What are you – "

This time, she didn't get to finish.

Santana's tongue lapped at the unveiled cut. Firm, warm, long, pressing licks, each movement of her tongue multiplied the painful pleasure Rachel had been experiencing, zigzagging up and through and in her body. Gasping, jolting, Rachel gasped again when three Band-Aids in, Santana grabbed her hand, pulling it down. Pressing her palm against the slowly settling throbbing spots, Rachel understood as soon as Santana pulled her hand away. Aside from the cooling and drying saliva still left behind, there was no more blood. Moving back, to the as yet untouched wounds, Rachel's heart thudded when she felt the familiar tacky sensation.

"Get it?"

Blinking at the suddenness of Santana's voice, Rachel opened her mouth to ask – _demand _– to know what was going on and _why _all of this was happening – _all of it_, from the beginning of the school year on – only to lose her train of thought when Santana began again.

Needing the anchor of staring down at Santana so she could _anticipate _and _prepare _for what was coming next, Rachel's mind whirled in her head. Santana's _saliva_ was sealing Rachel's cuts. Was sealing the cuts Santana's _nails _had caused. And Rachel was letting her… Was letting her lick her? _Lick_ her?

The tip of Santana's tongue drew up her hip, flicking over the top of her hipbone; _oh god did it go straight to her core_.

Finally, seeming like eons Rachel forced herself to stay quiet, breathing deeply and steadily, Santana finished that side, and glanced up at her. If possible, her eyes were even _darker_. Did she… Was she _enjoying _the taste of Rachel's _blood_? "Let it air dry," she husked, nose twitching, forcing herself back on her heels, "I'll put more Neosporin and Band-Aids on when I'm finished."

Rachel removed her hand from her shirt again, cautiously sliding it down to take over the task of keeping her waistband down. She had to look, to make sure this was real. Her palm could have been lying to her, after all.

No. Still red and there, the radiating color fading as she watched, the cuts looked clean with no ragged edges, and no blood in sight. "How did… Why?" Her brain was _not_ doing a good job of translating her thoughts into intelligible words.

"Hand up." Pulling Rachel's shirt out, reminding her of what she should be doing, Santana didn't bother answering. However, peeling off another Band-Aid, she didn't immediately move forward, the towel inactive on her leg. Instead, she let out a deep breath. Not really a sigh, more of a release of excess energy, Santana slowly looked up. Something new in her eyes, something that somehow immediately released the rigid grip Rachel's Flight response had had caged around her; she wasn't completely comfortable, her heart still thudding against her ribcage, but the thickness of _threat_ eased from around her throat. "Berry, relax. Saliva has enzymes that help in the clotting process and speed up scabbing. I promise I'm not hurting you."


End file.
